


Make out (to make up)

by moonlights0nata



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dorks who can't say no to a challenge, M/M, Rating May Change, Unresolved Tension, Yusaku sips his coffee and watches in wait for disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlights0nata/pseuds/moonlights0nata
Summary: “...Maybe.” Takeru’s eyes flickered down to Ryoken’s lips for a short beat, but Ryoken caught the movement and couldn’t help mirroring it a second later. They looked at each other, something charged and tense between them. “So? Are you just going to keep staring ?” Takeru muttered, daring Ryoken with his gaze. “You gonna hold back on me?”--Written for day 3 of #SlashRyoken in twitter!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will also prob have a few more chapters ! Whether I will finish this for when the event ends or later remains to be seen tho, but I don't expect it to be too long. (This is for day 3 but I'm posting as day 4 is ending cause....yeah xD)
> 
> Also partly based on the prompt "Ryoken Kogami is not a man who turns down a challenge." I didn't start with that prompt in mind but then realized it fit too well haha.
> 
> What can I say but hope you enjoy these two being dorks??? Just wait till they catch Feelings

The first time it happened, it’s after their long awaited duel, and it’s mostly awful.

While Revolver didn’t say it out loud, there was one thing he appreciated about Soulburner. His anger was a sign that he couldn’t yet move on fully from the Lost Incident, which was a constant reminded of how much his father had messed with his life, but at least, at the very least, that anger could be directed at Revolver now.

Soulburner was rightfully angry and intending to have Revolver take responsibility and Revolver was _glad_ for that. He couldn’t fix the hurt but he could deal with Soulburner’s pent up fire and let it burn him in his father’s stead. It was as it should be. Perhaps it would help Soulburner take that last step forward.

Their promised duel came and went in a flurry of flames and the roar of their monsters. Soulburner no longer had the Fire Ignis to give away if he lost but Revolver owned him this duel, and this time he gave the other everything he had.

The duel still ended in a draw.

There was a tense silence as their monster’s holograms disappeared from the field, but even from a distance Revolver could see Soulburner’s frustrated expression. He came striding towards him with purpose before his hand grasped the front of Revolver’s coat and slammed him against the wall behind him. Revolver only let out a small wince.

“Were you holding back on me?!” Soulburner snarled.

"No. I promised I would face you seriously and I did." Revolver gaze remained impassive. "We were evenly matched." He tilted his head, genuinely curious but not without a hint of disbelief. “Were you going into this duel expecting to lose?”

“ _Of course not_. I came here to beat you.” He snorted, almost self deprecating. “Looks like not even my best was good enough against you though.”

“Don’t pity yourself, Soulburner. It looks bad on you.” The words were sincere, eyes serious as they bore into the other’s. Comfort was probably the least Soulburner wanted or expected from him, but Revolver saw it necessary to state. “You fought well.”

Soulburner seemed taken aback by the compliment, eyes widening before narrowing. “I’m not done with you, Revolver. Our score isn’t settled yet.”

That’s right, this is how it should be. “Keep coming at me until you are satisfied. I will take you on.” He tilted his head, a challenge in his stance despite Soulburner still having him pinned to the wall. “Do not let your skills become dull in the absence of your Ignis.”

Revolver’s smart mouth just added more fuel to the fire. In an instant Soulburner glared at him like he wanted to tear him apart on the spot and he pulled his other fist back. Revolver was fully expecting a fist to the face but Soulburner merely punched the wall next to his head threateningly.

“Don’t bring Flame into this.” He pushed Revolver harder against the wall, baring his teeth. “I’ll beat you to the ground, next time.”

Revolver smirked. “Ah, that sounds more like you, Soulburner.” He gripped the other’s wrist, starting to find his hold a little choking. “Come at me with every bit of anger and resentment you hold in your heart.” It’s how it had to be. “I will accept it all.” It sounded a lot like a vow, vowing to take responsibility.

The words only seemed to make Soulburner angrier, getting all up into Revolver’s space, noses almost touching. His golden eyes shone like embers, flickering with too many emotions for Revolver to decipher them all.

“You’re so goddamn irritating. You piss me off so fucking much.”

“I know. You have made it perfectly clear that you hate--”

He never got to finish his sentence. Something shifted, between one breath and the other, and before Revolver could react Soulburner had mashed their lips together, hard enough to bruise, noses and teeth bumping together inelegantly. If this were real life Revolver was sure he would be tasting blood right now from the way Soulburner bit his lip. Soulburner tilted his head, pressing their lips insistently, his clearly inexperienced tongue pushing into Revolver’s mouth when he gasped.

It was a horrible kiss.

But it had Revolver’s head spinning, dizzy, knees feeling weak. Before he could regain any semblance of control, Soulburner was pulling away entirely, letting him go. Revolver slumped against the wall, watching, speechless and dazed, Soulburner as he dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, glaring at him over it.

“Just shut the fuck up, Revolver.”

It was with those words that the other logged out, leaving Revolver staring at the spot he’d been standing on. After a moment or two he logged out as well without a sound.

Back in the real world, Ryoken took a sharp breath in as soon as his eyes opened, fixing on the ceiling. He rose a hand to his lips, felt his face burn.

What had _that_ been?

* * *

 

The second time it happened, it’s outside of Link Vrains, a challenge.

Ryoken was a regular at the hot dog stand once more these days; Kusanagi was suspicious at first but after the fight with Lightning, and finding out about Revolver’s actions during his duel with Jin, there was barely any animosity left. If anything Kusanagi seemed glad to recover one of his paying regulars, at least.

Given he frequented the place enough it wasn’t rare that he crossed ways with Yusaku and Takeru and inevitably conversation was struck one way or another, short as they usually were. Takeru never seemed happy to have him there and made it known with a familiar glare.

The next time they saw each other after their duel, however, Takeru wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Even Yusaku and Kusanagi found it weird, exchanging confused glances when Takeru avoided him entirely.

Ryoken was puzzled why Takeru would not meet his eyes when _he_ was the one that had pushed him to the wall and kissed him. But he didn’t think he would be able to look at him just yet either so he let it slide for today, even if a big part of him wanted to ask.

When this behaviour continued, before Ryoken could do anything, _Yusaku_ took the matter into his own hands, but was not subtle in the least. He pushed at Ryoken’s back, then sat him down on his usual spot by the table next to Takeru.

“I don’t know what happened but _talk_.”

Yusaku left then towards the hot dog truck and tense silence fell between the remaining two. Takeru had his fists curled on his lap, staring at them, and Ryoken watched him for a moment before sighing.

“You are a horrible kisser.”

At that, Takeru spluttered, red face finally glancing up. “T--That’s what you open with?”

Ryoken shrugged, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms, betraying how flustered he was on the inside. “It finally got you to look at me so I would say it worked.”

“ _Ugh._ ” Takeru dragged a hand through his hair, elbow resting on the table. “I didn’t--It was in the heat of the moment okay?! You were pissing me off and I wanted to shut you up. It didn’t mean anything.” A pause. Takeru shot him a side way glare. “And what do you mean it was _horrible_?!”

“You are clearly inexperienced, is all I’m saying.” He snorted. “It felt like you were punching my mouth with your mouth.”

“O-Oh yeah? Like you could do any better!” Takeru snorted. “I bet you never kissed anyone before!”

Ryoken’s brow pinched slightly but he refused to lose his cool. “You are correct. That was the first time.” He didn’t catch it but Takeru flinched at that. “However I’m certain I’d fare far better than you.”

“Prove it then.”

Ryoken’s eyes widened, thrown off his axis, and he snapped his head Takeru’s way. He was blushing but he had a gleam in his eyes that was unmistakable to Ryoken now.

“Is...that a challenge?”

Takeru, unbeknownst  to Ryoken, was cursing himself and his impulsive mouth, but he wasn’t one to back away once he had already brought up a challenge. He tilted his chin up.

“What, too afraid to take me up on it, Revolver?” He grinned lopsidedly. “Think you’ll lose?”

Ryoken’s eyes narrowed and he straightened in his seat, leaning subtly forwards. The challenge was, objectively, ridiculous, and Ryoken should know better than to get riled up. However he was also not someone who backed off easily. He wouldn’t allow Takeru to make a fool of himself. “Not in the least. I just worry you will regret issuing this challenge when _you_ lose.”

“Hah! That’s _rich_.” Takeru leaned his forearm on the table, inching close as well. His cheeks were dusted pink but Ryoken sensed no hesitation from his posture. “You’ve never kissed anyone. You’ll suck at this.”

“I’m under the impression you haven’t, either, before the other day.” He arched an eyebrow, eyes scrutinizing Takeru’s face, lingering on his lips. There was a faint alarm going off in a corner of his brain telling him not to be stupid and go along with this (Go back, go back).

“For your information, I _have_ kissed someone before.” Takeru glanced away for a moment. “...When I was...five.” He mumbled the last part, clearly embarrassed, and Ryoken huffed in amusement.

“That hardly counts. I’d say we stand on even ground here.” They had leaned in so close by this point that Ryoken could even see the place where Takeru’s glasses were a little crooked. “That makes it a fair challenge.”

“...Maybe.” Takeru’s eyes flickered down to Ryoken’s lips for a short beat, but Ryoken caught the movement and couldn’t help mirroring it a second later. They looked at each other, something charged and tense between them. “So? Are you just going to keep _staring_?” Takeru muttered, daring Ryoken with his gaze. “You gonna hold back on me?”

The alarm in his head kept blaring more loudly (abort mission, abort mission, this is a terrible idea Ryoken Kogami !) but he wouldn’t listen. Before he could make the rational choice to back away, he was already leaning forwards. Their mouths crashed together uncomfortably, and he heard Takeru let out a surprised sound. Ryoken already knew his attempt was just as bad as Takeru’s had, lips more mushed against the other rather than fitting together comfortably.

Like this Ryoken had a moment to feel that Takeru’s lips were slightly chapped, in comparison to his. He should wear lip balm to keep the skin from getting that way. Takeru was far from pliant, too, pushing back against Ryoken’s mouth, a little too forcefully and making Ryoken wince when Takeru’s glasses got in the way and hit him in the face.

The one thing that was different from their kiss in Link Vrains was that this time Ryoken could taste the blood on his mouth when his teeth scraped against Takeru’s lips and he immediately pushed himself away, touching the pads of his fingers to his lips. A little blood coated them but it wasn’t his own, so he glanced towards Takeru and found him covering his mouth with a hand.

“Ouch, fuck--” Takeru half glared at him, but it looked far from menacing when he was blushing. “That was awful.”

“If I was awful you were terrible as well.” Ryoken frowned, defensive and red faced, but still reached over for a napkin left at the table and handed it to Takeru.

Takeru snatched the napkin from his hand and pressed it to his lip. “You made my lip bleed ! You were worse. Also I tasted something funny.” When he removed the napkin after a moment, blood and something glossy came out with it. “You wear lip balm?”

“You should too. Your lip bled because the skin is so dry and chapped.” Ryoken scoffed. “I believe we were both equally bad.”

“So what, then?” Takeru’s nose scrunched up. “I’m not gonna settle for a _draw_.”

Ryoken rolled his eyes, leaning back on his chair and sighing with exasperation. His tone was sarcastic as he spoke. “What, you want to make this a competition to see who wins? Like a duel?”

He was met with silence and when he glanced back at Takeru he was staring at him, leaning on the edge of his seat.

“Bring it on.”

Ryoken stared back at him, baffled. “You’re serious.”

“You told me to keep coming at you until I was satisfied.” Takeru quoted his words after their duel. “I will beat you next time we duel. And I know I can beat you at this as well.” He continued to use Ryoken’s words against him, looking all too smug by it. “Or did you go into this expecting to lose?”

Ryoken swallowed. This was a terrible, idiotic idea. The alarm in his mind was screaming and flashing red to alert him that if he agreed to this it would be too late to turn back afterwards (Hit cancel, press no !). And yet in the face of Takeru’s daring eyes, his swollen lips and the echo of his question, Ryoken ignored all warnings signs.

“Very well.” He crossed his arms, puffing his chest with a confidence he didn’t think he felt. But in front of Takeru, he refused to show he was anything but ready. “Come at me with everything you’ve got, Soulburner.”

Ryoken ignored the Terms and Conditions that lead to disaster and pressed yes, yes, yes.

Takeru smirked.

“I expect the same from you, Revolver.”

* * *

 

Ryoken and Takeru were so immersed in themselves, they were ignorant to the fact that Kusanagi and Yusaku had seen everything from the hot dog truck. Kusanagi kept staring at the pair in utter disbelief.

“Kusanagi-san. The hot dog is going to get burnt.”

“Ah, dammit--” He quickly flipped the sausage on the grill before looking between the pair by the table and Yusaku. “So. Uh, that...that happened?”

“I told them to _talk_ , _not make out._ ” Yusaku sighed, calmly sipping his coffee. “But I guess this still works.”

“I don’t get the youth these days.” Kusanagi shook his head, shoulders rising and falling. “First he hates him, then he’s kissing him. I don’t know what Takeru is thinking.”

“You’re not that old Kusanagi-san.” Yusaku gazed at the pair a moment longer before turning away. “I don’t know either.” He watched the coffee swirl in his cup. “But it’s something that they have to work through on their own. ”

“By making out?” Kusanagi inquired, not seemingly convinced. Yusaku shrugged, keeping his voice his usual deadpan.

“Make out to make up?”

Kusanagi snorted, breaking into laughter, and he almost burnt another hot dog.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing Takeru--no, Takeru himself--had to rank first into the list of most unpredictable things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy heck i updated this earlier than i thought? i was really inspired for this fic it seems aksdjs thank you everyone for your comments on the first chapter ! <33 
> 
> this chapter is a tad longer and wow the plot and feels attacked a little there ?? this was meant just as a lighthearted makeout fic ya'll i swear but here we are  
> anyways, hope you all enjoy these disaster boys !

Despite having agreed to their new... _challenge_ , Ryoken wasn’t expecting anything of it right away. He wasn’t really sure how this worked, if he was honest; it was one thing to challenge someone to a duel, arranging a time and a place and going at it, and another to challenge someone to, well, _make out_.

He didn’t really think he could simply pop out of nowhere to land one on Takeru as if this were a duel and he’d just activated a trap card, but he also wasn’t sure if this was something they decided to just do at a specific time, either. They hadn’t really sat down to set ground rules on this.

So at first, Ryoken laid low. Their stare downs whenever he was over at Cafe Nagi were back, as were Takeru’s glares, but the heat behind them was a little different. Like he was waiting for Ryoken to make the first move here and he was ready to counter him on it. Meanwhile Ryoken merely held his gaze while the question of _‘how are we even supposed to go about this’_ kept bouncing in his head.

He tried to tackle that question on his own. If there was one thing Ryoken knew what to do was plan strategies, get ready for battle. It worked when it came to dueling, so he tried to translate that into this new, undiscovered territory. How did one plan for a subject such as _kissing_ though? A subject he was a stranger to? He had no cards, no plays on this field. His hand was empty and he didn’t even have a deck to draw a miracle card from either.

In the end, it all came down to research, he concluded.

That was how Ryoken found himself at the public library, scouting the shelves. He had dignity and he refused to ask any of the staff if they had a manual on _how to kiss_ , so he was on his own.

He got off track when he passed by a shelf full of astronomy books, allowing himself a moment to peek into one and get lost among star systems and constellations (most of which he already knew of) before he shook himself and went back on searching what he came here for. He had plenty of books about space at home to read if he wanted.

He wasted a lot of time in the self-help books shelf. There was nothing useful here and most of the titles just made Ryoken roll his eyes. _‘Turn your life around, today!’_ , _‘Letting go 101’_ and _‘Grasp your future’_ were some of them, mocking him with their cheap price tags and all too optimistic language. Ryoken had no time for that, thank you.

Inevitably he ended up in the romance section, even when he didn’t think it would be much help. Romantic fiction was exactly that-- _fiction_. Even if many were set in realistic settings, he doubted reading three hundred pages or more to get to a kissing scene was going to be much help here.

Besides, what he and Takeru were doing had nothing to do with _romance_ . From Takeru’s part, it was anger and the need to beat Ryoken to settle their score. From Ryoken, he was willing to face Takeru as many times as it took for the other boy to be satisfied, and, well, he couldn’t say _no_ to a challenge. In the end It was all purely competition.

He tried a few books, just for the sake of it, skipping pages until he found the scenes he needed. Some were tame, and all too innocent kisses, but he stumbled upon books with very... _descriptive_ imagery. A woman next to him giggled and he realized she’d caught him blushing and fumbling to put a book back on the shelf, much to his embarrassment.

“Young man, you got lost in the wrong section?” She joked good naturedly and he cleared his throat, regaining a serious stance.

“No. That simply was...more information than what I require.”

“You lookin’ for something specific?”

Ryoken debated whether to be honest. Perhaps he could use some assistance after all, as reluctant as he was to ask for it. But the chances of seeing this woman again were slim. He’d risk it.

“I was wondering if there was a book about... _kissing_.”

“Like--a manual?” At his nod she giggled again. “Young man, there is no book that could help ya with that! Your best teacher is experience.”

“That is the _problem_.” He grumbled despite himself and the woman eyed him curiously.

“Ooh, ya trying to impress a girlfriend or somethin’?”

 _Not exactly_ but he couldn't explain to her the real reason. “Something like that.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head both ways in thought. “The only way to get really good at something is to suck really bad at it first.” She nodded sagely, like she was imparting wisdom onto him. “So you know--the only way to get good at it is to try different stuff until something clicks.”

“...Clicks?”

“Ya known--” She waved a hand around. “When something just feels really good. Like if she likes to get her lip bitten or prefers you to be gentle, or maybe she just wants you to shove your tongue down her throat--” Ryoken coughed. This woman had no shame of discussing this it seemed. But, to his surprise, she was giving away useful tips. “The point is--you can read as many internet tutorials as you want but until you actually try, you won’t get good at it.”

Ah, that’s right. He could check the internet for reference. “I see.” He nodded at the woman. “Thank you for your advice.”

“No problem kiddo!” She flashed him a thumbs up. “Go kiss ya girl senseless.”

Ryoken coughed again, nodding before swiftly excusing himself. Kiss Takeru senseless...well, if he achieved that, it certainly would make him the winner, no doubt about it.

In the end the library itself wasn’t very useful. Turning to the internet for help bore only slightly better results. What was with these step by step illustrated tutorials? There seemed to be one for even the most useless of things.

Looking to the data he had acquired he came to three conclusions:

One: before leaning in, he had to tilt his head to avoid collisions. Every book and tutorial described this step.

Two: Tongues were involved. At some point. Somehow. He would figure it out.

Three: To get better he had to practice and in order to do that...he would have to face off with Takeru once more.

He had a strategy of sorts this time, though. _Kind of_. There was no way Takeru could throw something at him that he didn’t expect.

 

* * *

 

Scratch that.

Scratch everything.

Kissing Takeru--no, Takeru himself--had to rank first into the list of most unpredictable things.

It started simple enough; with Takeru pressing him back against a tree. They had come to a secluded corner in the park after a short, exchange of looks. Yusaku had stared off after them curiously but said nothing. Ryoken silently wondered if he’d seen them, last time, but the boy hadn’t brought it up and neither would Ryoken.

“You ready to lose?” Takeru’s eyes gleamed with readiness.

“Please.” Ryoken huffed, tilting his chin up. “Can you even _reach_ my mouth?” It was merely mean to rile him up. Takeru was shorter than him but if he just barely stood on his tiptoes he could easily reach.

“Don’t need to reach--” He fisted his hand in Ryoken’s shirt and pulled him down to eye level, smiling all too smugly. “--if I can just drag you down.”

Ryoken only managed to swallow once before Takeru’s lips were on his. It was a little bumpy but not the bruising, first kiss he had given Ryoken. His lips were still chapped and pushing insistently against his own.

This was where Ryoken had failed to react last time, but this time he was expecting it. He tilted his head--step one--and it was at least a little better for a moment. Instead of merely pressing together, their lips felt more like they fit together, instead, or at least it was what was supposed to be happening. Maybe if Takeru opened his mouth a little--

A startled squeal snapped them both out of it and they turned just in time to see two children running off red faced and wailing about people kissing. Takeru was the first to clear his throat, pushing himself away from Ryoken.

“It’s not--as secluded as I thought.”

“Yes--perhaps we should do this somewhere more _private_.”

“You are not stepping a foot in my house.” Takeru said immediately and Ryoken waved a dismissive hand.

“I was going to propose mine, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh.” Pause. He squinted. “You would let me into your home just like that?”

Ryoken shrugged, stepping away from the tree and gesturing for Takeru to follow. “I have nothing to hide. And if I had, I wouldn’t even have to hide it, given your poor understanding of coding language and technology skills.”

“Don’t mock me.” Takeru shoved his fists in his pockets, not without elbowing Ryoken first in annoyance. “I could still trash your files or your computers if I wanted.”

“But _would you_?” He gave Takeru an assessing, sideways glance. “Would that feel like a fair victory for you?”

“Not a victory, but definitely an annoyance to you.” Takeru snorted. He was quiet, though, actually thinking about it. “I don’t trust you. But whatever plans you have going on ahead, if I have to stop you, I’ll stop you when the time comes.”

Ryoken half smiled, amused. “What is this, Soulburner? Are you giving me the benefit of the doubt?”

Takeru grumbled. “Like I said. _I don’t trust you_ .” He kicked the ground a little. “But for some reason, Yusaku has hope for you. That you are going to do the right thing, I guess. And I trust _him_ .” He shot Ryoken a fierce glare. “That’s why _I’ll_ be the first to stop you.”

Ryoken held Takeru’s gaze for a moment. This, he respected about Takeru. Even when Yusaku was firm in his belief in Ryoken, ever since that duel to stop the Tower of Hanoi, Takeru wasn’t completely swayed by him. He didn’t let his opinion be clouded by Yusaku, who he seemed protective and very fond of. He distrusted Ryoken, and he could only think that’s how it should be.

Because Ryoken was not as good as a person as Yusaku believed, and Takeru saw that. His anger, his resentment, Ryoken thought he deserved them, and Takeru gave them to him without a prompt.

“We will see, when the time comes.” Was all he said, in the end, and the rest of the walk to his house was silent.

As he lead Takeru inside, he belatedly thought this was the first time he was bringing someone here that wasn’t Spectre or the Knights. It’s not like the inside looked much like someone lived in it; most of the time he was in his room, the kitchen or the observatory (though he had avoided that room for a long time, after his return). The living room was practically untouched.

“You call this a house? It’s a fucking _mansion_.” Takeru seemed to have forgotten the purpose of coming here entirely and made a beeline for said living room, snooping about freely. Ryoken let him, if not with a small annoyed twitch to his eye. If Takeru was looking for anything incriminatory, he would not find it here.

The room had shelves on practically all walls, couches lined up on a circle around a low table in the middle. The shelves had books, but also had a few trinkets his father had put out as decoration once upon a time, statues or glass figurines or other things. Perhaps souvenirs from a rare, rare trip from before Ryoken had memory. Maybe some were old enough that his mother had bought them. Ryoken didn’t know; they hadn’t talked about her, or the decorations much at all.

“Surprised you don’t have someone to clean these for you.” Takeru noted, seeing as a lot of things had a growing layer of dust on it. Ryoken shook his head.

“I don’t use this room. That’s why it’s like this.”

“Huh?”

“None of this is mine.” He clarified. “I have read the books on the shelves maybe once, but they a-- _were_ my father’s.” He cleared his throat. “If I’m ever here, It’s because I have visits over.”

He wondered how Takeru would react at the mention of Kogami. He spared him a glance and saw him stare at a very abstract, odd little statue with a blank look. Even Ryoken wasn’t sure what it was--it was frankly a little creepy.

“Kogami--” Takeru began, and Ryoken was surprised by the lack of bite behind it. It sounded more mocking. “--had shit taste in decorations.”

Ryoken glanced at the statue, coming to stand beside Takeru. He blinked. Then nodded. “I’m not sure if it was bad. He didn’t care, I think.” He couldn’t even be offended for the sake of his father. He had no big attachment to these things. The only reason they were still here was because, well--they had been his _father’s._ Ryoken kept postponing the day he would look through them and put them in boxes. He hadn’t had real time for it either, but he was not letting them go yet. Some part of him knew he would have to but that was a phantom he had yet to put to rest.

Takeru offered merely a hum in reply and kept looking. He stopped again when his eyes landed on a small framed picture, at the far corner of another shelf. Ryoken’s heart almost leapt in his throat even when his face remained impassive; he had _almost_ forgot that picture was there. He hadn’t been able to bring it up to his room, but hadn’t been able to discard it entirely either, like everything here.

It was one of the few photos he had with his father. This particular one had been taken not much after Ryoken discovered what Kogami had been up to with his experiments. He saw his younger self smile in the picture and felt sick, knowing how strained it was, how he had forced himself to be relaxed under the hand Kogami had on his shoulder. He couldn't remember what had prompted this photo. Perhaps Kyoko had chided Kogami for the little time he spent with him and proposed it. Perhaps it had been Aso. Ryoken didn’t know but every time he looked at it he felt anew the feeling of horror and confusion from back then.

Before he knew it he was moving, reaching an arm past Takeru and snapping the picture face down on the shelf. The gesture startled Takeru.

“What th--” Whatever he saw on Ryoken’s face when he turned made him pause for a moment. “...Y’know, I’m not gonna be _offended_ at a photo of him. I expected this much.”

“That’s not it.”

“What, you embarrassed about how you look then?”

Ryoken sighed. “I didn’t invite you over so you could pry.” He tugged at the strings of Takeru’s hoodie and pulled him along towards one of the couches, catching Takeru off guard before he snatched them out of Ryoken’s grip with a scowl.

Ryoken took a seat, fixing Takeru with cool look. “I distinctly remember you saying I’d be losing today. You have yet to win, and I am more than ready to prove you wrong.” Partly he also wanted to bury the phantom feeling in his chest after catching sight of that photo again, but remembering why they were here was an ample distraction.

“Fine.” Takeru huffed, plopping down beside Ryoken. Their knees bumped. “Try to prove me wrong, then.”

Ryoken arched an eyebrow. Conceding the first move? It was unexpected, considering how forward he had been earlier, but Ryoken wouldn’t question it. He sat sideways, facing Takeru and debated for a moment how to proceed first. A weight on his pocket reminded him of something he had brought with him today, and he took a small circular container from his pocket. Takeru eyed it warily.

“What’s that?”

“Lip balm.” Ryoken uncapped it, dabbing his index finger in some of it. He grasped Takeru’s chin with his free hand so he’d be still and began to coat his lips with the balm. “Neither you or I want blood in our mouths again this time, I presume. And your lips are still dry.” There was a bit of a critical tone to his voice, which Takeru clearly did not like by the way his mouth pursed. “Be still--”

The next moment, Takeru opened his mouth and bit down on Ryoken’s finger.

Ryoken _squeaked_.

“Homura, what the hell?!”

“Oh, are we doing last names now?” He was giving Ryoken a defying frown. He stuck out his tongue. “Cute squeak, _Kogami-kun_.”

Takeru hadn’t bit hard enough to draw blood but yes hard enough to hurt. Ryoken clicked his tongue in annoyance, fixing Takeru with a glare.

“Shut up. Don’t call me that.” He was surprised by how ruffled it made him feel.

“ _Make me_.” Takeru grasped the front of Ryoken’s shirt and pulled him close. “Try and shut me up, Kogami.”

Ryoken mirrored Takeru’s gesture, fingers curling over the collar of his hoodie, before he threw logic and planning and everything else down the border and crushed their lips together. A part of him somehow remembered to tilt his head but the kiss still started off rough. Takeru’s lips were coated in balm which made it easier to move his lips against his, pushing and pressing but unsure where to go from there.

He pulled back just slightly, wanting to try another angle, but Takeru surged forwards and captured his lips again before he could catch his breath. His nose pressed onto Ryoken’s cheek, and Takeru’s glasses ended up once more knocking against his face from the impulse he took forwards. He felt Takeru grumble against his mouth before he pushed himself away long enough to slide his glasses off, putting them on the coffee table.

“Wearing glasses is annoying.” He muttered, already getting into Ryoken’s space again.

“Can you even see without them?” Ryoken asked idly, distracted momentarily by the sight of Takeru without his glasses, by his lavender eyes without the lenses covering them. He didn’t fight the thought that said they were pretty. _Intense, fierce_.

“Yeah.” Takeru leaned an arm against the back of the couch and grabbed Ryoken’s chin with his free hand. “As long as it’s up close.”

He pressed their lips together again. Ryoken felt like Takeru was trying to knock the wind out of him whenever he kissed him, eager to prod and try things in his inexperience. Ryoken was just as inexperienced but he was thoroughly lost, figuring out the pace, the rhythm, the trick to make this work.

They moved in different tempos, Takeru fast and clumsy, Ryoken slow and stiff. When he tried to dictate the pace, Takeru stole it from him. It was like neither would allow the other to lead, and Ryoken almost found humor in the fact this might as well _be_ a _duel_ ; trying to outsmart your opponent, overwhelm them.

Ryoken was the first to yield. When Takeru experimentally licked his lower lip, he caught him by surprise, and that was enough for Takeru to stick his tongue into his mouth, earning him a gasp from Ryoken. At some point his hand had ended on Takeru’s shoulder, fingers holding tight, curling over the material of his hoodie as Takeru pushed into his mouth. It was messy and sloppy in technique, but Ryoken was starting to find something that _clicked._ He couldn’t fight back a small hum when he tasted the light peach flavor of the lip balm, tongue swiping over Takeru's lips and earning him a shudder.

He slid his arm over Takeru’s shoulder, hand grasping at his back and dragging him closer. Takeru let him, pushing his weight forwards against Ryoken. He was too lost in the kiss to react when he ended on his back against the cushions, Takeru hovering over him. He tried to mimic what Takeru was doing with his tongue but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the way their tongues intertwined. Dizzy, light headed, Takeru was making his head swim.

Or, no, wait. That was the lack of air.

They had been kissing for so long he finally noticed the burn in his lungs and he pushed against Takeru’s chest to get him off. When Takeru didn’t get the hint, Ryoken bit down on his tongue. That had Takeru breaking apart with surprised wince, glaring down at Ryoken with a hand over his mouth.

“What the _hell_?!”

Ryoken glared back with as much intensity as he could muster with a red face and while panting hard for air.

“I couldn’t-- _breathe_ you _idiot_.” He swiped some saliva on corner of his mouth with his thumb. “You didn’t get off when I pushed you.”

“Oh.” Takeru blinked, and he blushed, looking away. “Sorry.”  He shifted his weight from one forearm to the other where they caged Ryoken’s head. “I was…”

“Distracted?” Ryoken lifted an eyebrow. “I could tell.”

“No. I was--That felt _good_.” Takeru mumbled, half frowning at Ryoken, but he looked more embarrassed than irritated. “I got--caught up in it.”

“Oh.”  Ryoken was surprised Takeru would admit to that, given it was Ryoken he was kissing.

After a moment Takeru’s lips curled in a smirk. “I totally won today.” That made Ryoken scoff. _Right._

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your technique was far too sloppy and you forgot to factor _breathing_ into it. I wouldn’t count it a win.”

“Don’t be such a sore loser, Revolver.” Takeru huffed. “At least I’m _trying_ stuff. You’re stiff as a board when it comes to kissing.”

“And you are too _much_. You go too fast.”

“What, can’t keep up?” He propped his elbow on a cushion, head on his palm. He was looking far too smug. “‘Sides--” He tilted his head. “--I think you _enjoyed_ that.”

Ryoken felt the heat creep up his neck and he turned his head away. While that kiss was far from being perfect, Ryoken couldn’t deny it to himself. He was not a man that was very fond of a lack of control, he was more the one dictating the pace, but Takeru had so easily swept him into his. And he had yielded and for a moment he had _liked_ that.

Admitting it was another thing entirely.

He wheezed when suddenly Takeru’s whole weight dropped and came to rest against his chest. Ryoken pushed at his shoulders.

“Homura, off. You’re heavy. ”

“Nah.” When Ryoken looked down, Takeru had his arms crossed over Ryoken’s chest and resting his chin on them. He stuck his tongue out at him. “You gotta admit I won this round first.”

Ryoken groaned, throwing his head back. “You act like a child.”

“Says the stubborn loser.”

They fell into silence, both unshielding in their decision. Ryoken was starting to calculate ways to get Takeru off, possibly by rolling on the couch, when Takeru spoke again, his tone neutral but more serious.

“That photo…” His eyes glanced back at the shelf, far into the corner. “Why did you look like that when you saw it?”

Ryoken stared at him, trying to remain impassive. “...Look like _what_?”

“Upset.” Takeru looked back at him. There was a question in his gaze. “Why?”

Ryoken swallowed, and it was his turn to glance to the shelf, to the face down picture. He debated telling the truth, or avoiding the question. He didn’t think Takeru would press for answers, but Ryoken wondered why he was asking in the first place. Why he would care, when it involved the very man Takeru despised.

In the end, he took a short breath and replied with the truth.

“That photo was taken not long after I discovered what my father was experimenting with. The Lost Incident.” He felt Takeru tense above him for a beat. “I can’t remember why we took it in the first place. But I hate it.” The heat in his own voice surprised him.

He threw an arm over his eyes, feeling too exposed, knowing he was getting that look in his eyes again. “It reminds me of being small and confused, not knowing what to do in the face of the horrors my own father was up to.” It reminded him of screaming children and a phone call that would change Ryoken’s entirely life. His smile was rueful. “And yet, as you see...I cannot let it go entirely either.”

He wondered if Takeru would think it was pathetic. If he’d get up and leave, now. Ryoken didn’t think Takeru wanted to hear about anything related to Kogami, and he was rather sure the boy held no sympathy for Ryoken either.

However the weight on his chest was not gone, and instead he felt Takeru shift. Hair tickled Ryoken’s cheek and he realized Takeru had tucked his head on his shoulder.

“...I hate him.” He began, and Ryoken expected that much and the bitterness in his voice. But it was soon replaced by something more... _understanding_ , and Ryoken was taken aback.. “He was still your father. So--I get it.”

Perhaps Ryoken shouldn’t be so surprised; Takeru had lost both his parents. He knew the feeling of losing a father, even if Ryoken would argue their situations were vastly different. He was sure Takeru’s father had been a caring man. Ryoken had days where he couldn’t recall many moments  where Kogami had acted truly like a father. Only in his last moments had he apologized for that--and Ryoken had not had the time to process any of it.

He lowered his arm, glancing down at the top of Takeru’s head on his shoulder. He was startled by the contrast of Takeru’s anger towards him and this quieter, softer understanding he was offering him now. It confounded him, and he wasn’t sure what to say in the face of it.

“...You win.” He settled for getting back to their first point of argument. The words made Takeru look up, blinking in confusion. Ryoken fought to keep meeting his eyes. “The kiss. It--It was _acceptable_.”

Realization dawned on Takeru and he snorted. “Just _acceptable_?” He shook his head, propping himself up on his arms and sitting up, finally. “Guess I’ll take it for now.”

Ryoken sat up as well, patting down on his ruffled clothes. “Do not grow so complacent. Next time will be different.”

“Next time, huh?” Takeru reached for his glasses, sliding them back on. He was smiling lopsidedly at Ryoken. “Just go ahead and _try_.”

They didn’t linger, after that. There was no reason to. After Ryoken lead Takeru out, he found himself glancing at Takeru’s back as he walked away a moment longer than necessary.  

Takeru Homura was truly _unpredictable_. One moment he was he was angry and glaring at him, the next he was kissing him until he was dizzy, and then he was unexpectedly soft. Ryoken felt exhausted simply from how his emotions had oscillated today, from the way Takeru found ways to get under his skin so easily.

He hadn’t expected this to come out of their little competition. A part of him, the one that had yelled at him to not do this, insisted again that this was a bad idea. The alarm in his head beeped and reminded him not to lose himself, to put distance before it got out of his hands.

Yet Ryoken tapped his fingers to his lips, puzzled, intrigued, recalling Takeru’s lips, their challenge. Backing out now was not an option, it no longer was. He was not someone who ever got things half done, and he would not start now.

He would simply have to turn it around. Next time, it was _his_ turn to get under Takeru’s skin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You won our challenge, the other day.” His face revealed nothing as he glanced at Takeru, a cool facade. “I was thinking it would only be fair you got something in return for that.”  
> Takeru didn’t seem to be expecting that answer, eyes widening. Then he squinted.  
> “Well, aren’t you feeling _nice_.”  
> “It’s fairness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point this fic is makeout AND plot AND stupid shenanigans, I have accepted it. Because these two idiots need to have a Talk and they will, probably, in between the kissing and the sexual tension. YEAH.
> 
> ANYWAYS WOW, me updating a fic and it's not like a year later? Ya'll send me energy to keep it up lmao, but I'm pretty happy with this fic so far and have ideas so I am hoping to see it through !! I might get busy studying so don't think I'll be writing a lot more this month...so I leave you with this for now <3

The next time Ryoken found Yusaku and Takeru in Cafe Nagi, his eyes caught on the mess of textbooks and papers on their table. Takeru was hunched over his own with a look of frustrated concentration, while Yusaku was boredly sitting back on his chair and sipping from the straw of his drink.

“Midterms.” Was what Kusanagi told him, with a shake of his head and an amused look thrown their way. “Takeru is trying to get Yusaku motivated for them and failing, I think.”

Ryoken’s curiosity was piqued at this, glancing over at the pair. Yusaku caught his eye then and made a silent motion waving him over. After a pause he did, looking over the mess at the table. A pencil threatened on falling over the edge but neither boy did anything about it. He was surprised Takeru didn’t even lift his gaze to glare at him; his eyes were glued to whatever he was writing.

“Are you not studying as well, Playmaker?” He asked, taking in the other’s relaxed state. Yusaku shrugged.

“It’s more fun to watch Takeru.”

Ryoken didn’t get what he meant until a second later he heard a loud thump against the table. When he looked over, Takeru had his face planted against his work sheet.

“Yusakuuuuuuuuuu---” Takeru whined. “Please.”

“I told you.” Yusaku sipped his drink. “I don’t know, either.”

“But if we combine forces--”

“Two minds are better than one only applies if both of us have some knowledge over the subject.”

Takeru groaned, turning his head so his cheek was resting on the table. His glasses crooked. “Yusaku--” It was then that he seemed to notice someone else standing there. Takeru lifted his head and looked wide eyed at Ryoken. “Oh. You are here too.”

“I have been for a few minutes.” Ryoken arched an eyebrow, seeing the lack of a glare from the other. Takeru even seemed a bit bashful when he fixed his glasses. Ryoken’s lips curled on a smirk. “I didn’t think all it took to defeat you was schoolwork, Soulburner.”

That did earn him a glare. “Fu--” If he was going to say _‘Fuck off’_ , he held himself back, for some reason. He cleared his throat. “I’m not defeated ! I just--” He glanced at his worksheet with a look of disgust and frustration. His next admission was a mumble. “--never learned this.”

The statement caught Ryoken’s attention. He turned to Yusaku, however. “I am assuming neither did you, then?”

“I went to class. Doesn’t mean I paid attention.” Yusaku stared at one of the sheets on the table, seeming to think about something, before reaching for it and handing it to Ryoken. “Do you know this?”

Ryoken took the sheet and looked it over. They seemed to be math problems. He had been homeschooled his whole life, so he had a fair knowledge of what they gave in school subjects and possibly more. This was nothing.

“Yes. It is rather easy, actually.”

“Easy, he says.” Takeru grunted under his breath as he tried to focus back on what he was doing. Yusaku was still looking at Ryoken.

“Can you help?” The request didn’t surprise Ryoken but Takeru’s head snapped up at that, looking at Yusaku with disbelief. Yusaku turned to him before he could argue. “You said you wanted to pass. If Revolver can help, you should use this chance.” They seemed to hold a silent conversation with their eyes, something softer to Yusaku’s gaze. “It’s important to you, right?”

Ryoken found it very interesting how under Yusaku’s gaze and his words, Takeru too visibly relaxed, a little fight leaving him. He still turned to Ryoken with half a glare, seeming reluctant to have to ask Ryoken of all people for help, but there was something determined to him too. 

“...Can you?” 

Ryoken debated it for a moment.

“On one condition.” He began, and Takeru frowned, already expecting the worst, but Ryoken merely looked at Yusaku. “ _You_ study too.”

Yusaku shot him a look of utter _betrayal_. Between Takeru and Ryoken gazing at him he finally sighed before leaning forward to find his own worksheet. Ryoken fought back another smirk; it seemed that, if it was for each other, these two would put up with small displeasures. He sat on the free chair at their table. Surely helping with math couldn’t be that hard.

Oh was he ever _wrong_. The next hour was...chaotic, if Ryoken had to put a word to it.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

“Wha--But you told me to do it like this!” 

“Soulburner, did you loose your brain cells three math problems ago? It’s like this--”

“That’s not what you said before!”

“It is. You just weren’t listening.”

“You’re _shit_ at explaining.”

“No, you are just not paying attention.”

“Let’s take a break.” Yusaku finally interrupted, when it looked like Takeru was ready to stab Ryoken’s eye with the edge of his text book. He had been reluctant to study but he seemed to have an easier time understanding. He had quickly dropped it though as soon as it was clear Takeru and Ryoken were more focused arguing with each other.  “I’ll ask Kusanagi-san for some coffee.” With that he stood and walked off, leaving Ryoken with a seething and moody Takeru.

“I _am_ paying attention.” Takeru snapped after a moment, arms crossed over his chest and sinking a little on his seat. His expression was pinched with frustration. “The way you explain is too complicated for me.”

“How much more can I simplify it?” Ryoken sighed, rubbing between his eyes a little. “This is just a little more advanced than the basics.”

“Yeah well, I never learned the _basics._ ” Takeru muttered. Catching Ryoken’s questioning look, he glanced away. “Before I came to Den City, I skipped school. I didn’t go. I never bothered to learn any of this because I didn’t _care_ , back then.”

It was a small admission of truth that he didn’t expect and it was enough to give Ryoken pause, an unpleasant weight in his chest. It didn’t take much guessing why Takeru hadn’t bothered to go.

“...What changed your mind, then?” He asked instead. “Why do you suddenly care to learn these things?”

“‘Cause I want to...” Takeru fiddled with the corner of one the worksheets. “...make up for lost time. I worried everyone around me when I didn’t go to school. Now I want to...try.” Even when looking at his profile, Ryoken recognized the small flame flickering behind Takeru’s eyes. “It’s my way to try to move forwards a little, I guess.”

Move forwards, huh? 

Takeru blinked, shaking his head, squinting sideways at Ryoken. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”

“It’s a valid reason. I respect that.” He paused before nodding to himself. “I will help you pin down the basics, then. You won’t understand anything if we don’t do that first.”

Takeru stared hard at him. “Why are you helping me?”

Ryoken could think of a few excuses. Because Yusaku asked. Because he wanted to. Because the least he could do was help Takeru with something as mundane as homework, when he still felt responsible for the way his father had messed with his life. Saying that probably wouldn’t earn him favors with Takeru, though, he suspected. Takeru would see it as Ryoken pitying him, or a lie.

So he settled on what was easiest.

“You won our challenge, the other day.” His face revealed nothing as he glanced at Takeru, a cool facade. “I was thinking it would only be fair you got something in return for that.”

Takeru didn’t seem to be expecting that answer, eyes widening. Then he squinted.

“Well, aren’t you feeling _nice._ ”

“It’s fairness.”

“Whatever.” Takeru rolled his eyes, like he did not quite believe him. Then, after a pause. “Do you mean it? You’ll help me with this?”

“Yes. As long as you are willing to listen to me.” He leaned back against his seat, arms crossed. “If we will just continue to bicker we won’t get anywhere.”

“Fine.” Takeru huffed, sitting back straight. “But let’s not waste Yusaku’s time with this. He already knows the basics.” Ryoken could agree with that. Before he could ask what Takeru wanted to do, Takeru spoke again. “Are you always free around this hour?”

“Mostly, yes.” Frankly, while they waited on finding any sightings of the Dark Ignis, Ryoken had little to do. 

“Good. Then come over my apartment tomorrow and help me study.” 

 _That_ caught Ryoken by surprise. One corner of his mouth lifted up in a curious grin. “I thought you did not want me take one step in your home?”

“I’m not _thrilled_ about it. But I can also kick you out whenever I want so--” He smiled, almost mirroring Ryoken. “--it might be better this way, actually.”

 

* * *

 

Takeru gave Ryoken his address and they agreed on an hour. It was a bit later than Ryoken expected, given he usually saw Takeru at Cafe Nagi much earlier in the day, but he did not question it. The next day, he was ringing Takeru’s doorbell right on time.

It took a moment before he heard shuffling and thump followed by muffled cursing from the other side of the door. It swung open, revealing Takeru with damp hair and no glasses. It made Ryoken stare for a moment. Takeru looked fresh out of the shower with a towel swung around his shoulders, wearing a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair fell flat against his forehead and his nape, weighted down by the water.

“You sure are _punctual_.” Takeru speaking made him blink, right when  Takeru stepped aside to let him through. “Come on. Get settled while I get my stuff.”

Ryoken stepped in without a word, leaving his shoes by the door before he made it further in. He took in the simplicity of Takeru’s apartment in comparison to what he was used to. The space was all one room, with a small kitchen to the left and a short hallway right from the entrance, presumably leading to the bathroom, as Ryoken saw only one door there. There was a desk just beside the window, and the right wall was just a closet. A low table sat in the middle with Takeru’s school bag on it and his glasses resting on one corner. Ryoken saw no bed, but he assumed there was a futon in the closet.

“Is it a shock to see how normal people live?” Ryoken heard Takeru snort, possibly having caught him staring. Takeru was towelling at his hair as he walked past Ryoken and sat on one of the cushions by the table. 

“ _No._ ” Ryoken retorted, kneeling in the seat opposite Takeru. “It is just... _different_ than what I’m used to. Small, perhaps a little cramped. And yet having everything within reach, all in the same room…” He took another glance around before he settled his eyes on Takeru. “It’s quite convenient.” 

He would not consider living somewhere with _so_ little space, but when he compared it to his mansion sized house, it was a far better use of the space. Ryoken barely used all of his house’s installations, even when they were available to him; it was too big for one person living alone.

“Are you just saying that not to insult the place I live in?”  Taker dropped the towel back around his shoulders before starting to dig through his bag, but sparing Ryoken a dubious look. 

Ryoken sighed. “No. I was merely making an observation. Take it as you like.”

Takeru shrugged, choosing not to comment further. He seemed oddly subdued, or if Ryoken had to say, relaxed, despite being in the presence of someone he claimed to dislike.  Ryoken watched Takeru finally take out his books and his notebook.

“Had you just got home?” He asked, unable to hold his curiosity back. As far as he knew school ended much earlier.

“I had club today.” Was Takeru’s simple answer, as he slipped his glasses on. He turned to Ryoken, who just looked back inquisitively. “I’m in the Judo Club after school.”

“Oh.” Ryoken blinked. That explained why he’d caught Takeru right after a shower. Unthinkingly, his eyes flickered to Takeru’s arms. The clothes he wore on the daily hid his built quite well but when he thought about it, Soulburner himself certainly displayed _muscles_. He would have attributed that to Takeru’s aesthetic choices when designing his avatar but it seemed it checked out as well in real life.

But _now_ wasn’t the time to focus on that, he reminded himself, and before his silence lingered to long, he glanced back up and spoke, matter of factly. “Are you going to be able to focus?”

“I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re asking.” Takeru huffed, and finally Ryoken got a slight frown back from him. He nudged his notebook Ryoken’s way. “Now, are you going to teach me stuff?”

Explaining the basics, turned out, was a bit harder than Ryoken expected, given he understood complex math, but jogging his memory took little time. He tried to keep his explanations as simple as he could, only expanding when he felt Takeru had understood him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised that Takeru actually listened to him this time, and even asked questions when he got stuck. Instead of being stubborn, Ryoken could see the boy was actually serious about this, willing to let go of his pride and let Ryoken help. It was a strange change of pace.

For the next hours, they worked steadily through a few bases Takeru had missed in the time he’d skipped school, at least the ones he’d need to move on to what his exam would ask of him. Occasionally Takeru let out a frustrated grunt, when something proved particularly challenging, and he mussed up his hair even more with a hand while he thought (Ryoken fought the unexplainable urge to pat his hair back down).

“You are doing well.” Ryoken told him, half way, when he thought the crease between Takeru’s brows was going to leave a permanent indent there. He wasn’t sure his attempt at encouragement was received well when, if possible, Takeru seemed to frown more, but Ryoken persisted. “This is correct so far. You are only missing a step.” He pointed to a previous problem Takeru had solved. “Remember what you did here, to solve X. It’s similar.”

For a moment Ryoken wondered if Takeru’s frustration was greater than his ability to see the connection, but he seemed to find his focus again. He was quiet, looking over what he’d done earlier before he let out a quiet _‘oh’_ and quickly began to write down the answer to the new problem.

“Like this?” He titled the paper Ryoken’s way. After reading over it, Ryoken gave him a nod.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Takeru sighed, shoulders sagging, and his face relaxed. He even smiled. “ _Good._ I thought I was gonna be stuck on it forever.”

Ryoken’s lips curled up. “Really, Homura, if I’d known before this was your greatest weakness, I would have used it to defeat you. Perhaps in our next duel I should include math quizzes.” He wondered if the mention of their duel would completely shatter the easier atmosphere they had going.

Instead, Takeru simply huffed and punched him in the arm. Not hard, but enough to hurt a little and make Ryoken wince.

“You do that and maybe our next duel I’ll just toss you over my shoulder to the ground.” Takeru had a cheeky grin on his face. “If you don’t play fair neither will I, and I'm pretty sure I could snap you in half, even in Link Vrains.”

Ryoken couldn’t help but glance at Takeru’s arms again at the comment. He probably _could_. The thought, oddly enough, made Ryoken’s throat feel dry and he quickly cleared his throat before he could wonder why.

“Let’s- _-continue_.”

They kept at it for a little more but every person had a limit and eventually Takeru leaned back with a groan, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. “Okay, _hold on_ , my eyes hurt.”

“We could stop here, for now. I think you’ve done a lot.”

“My exam is _soon_ , this isn’t nearly enough.” Takeru argued, but he was looking tired. Ryoken knew when someone was trying to push past their limits (that someone was usually him). He debated with himself before nodding.

“I could come over again tomorrow. If--” Seeing Takeru’s head shoot up made him quickly add. “--you agree to it. I have time.”

Takeru eyed him like he was having an internal struggle with himself.

“Why are you helping me so much?” 

“I have already told you why. I believe it’s only fair--”

“I don’t buy it. This would have already been enough.” Takeru squinted at him, leaning forwards on the table slightly. “So what is it? I don’t believe this is just out of the _goodness_ of your heart.”

Ryoken smiled with a bit of humor, propping an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm. “Would that be so _hard_ to believe? That perhaps I want to?”

“You’re not a good person.” Takeru’s reply was to be expected, and Ryoken wasn’t perturbed by it. That’s what he had been saying, all the time. He wasn’t as good as a person as Yusaku claimed. Takeru _saw_ that. However his next words made Ryoken freeze. “Is this you _trying_ to make up for _it_?”

It was and it wasn’t. Because obviously, nothing as mundane as helping Takeru study would ever make up for all the suffering Kogami put him through. It wouldn’t make up for the countless mistakes Ryoken had committed in his name either. It wouldn’t put down the flame of Takeru’s anger.

“You know--Yusaku told me.” _About what?_ “You didn’t attack Jin. He told me what Lightning did during your duel.” He wasn’t sure why _this_ was brought to light now, but Takeru kept going. His eyes were fixed on Ryoken’s, and for a moment he wondered if he was trying to put him together like a puzzle he didn’t understand. “You would have defeated Lightning if you had. Beat the Ignis you so want to destroy. And yet you didn’t.”

“My objective was the Light Ignis. Not Kusanagi Jin.”

“But you, _the leader of the Knight of Hanoi,_ wouldn’t have _cared_ who got caught in the crossfire. I read what happened with the Tower of Hanoi. I know.” There was a coldness in Takeru’s eyes now but he was still trying to find something else in Ryoken’s gaze. “I don’t _get_ you. One moment you sacrifice hundreds of people. The next you try to save them. And now you are helping me. I don’t know _why_ but I know one thing.” 

He grabbed the front of Ryoken’s shirt and pulled him forwards, so they met eye to eye in the middle of the table. 

“ _This_ won’t make up for anything. Nothing will. I’ll make you take responsibility when we _duel_ again.”

Ryoken was an expert of schooling his expression, of staying impassive. But the small, sharp intake of breath through his nose, he couldn’t hide. _This is dangerous_ , his mind said. Takeru was dangerous. Not because of his physical strength but because he was more perceptive than Ryoken gave him credit for. 

“And I intend to take responsibility. I told you. Come to me as many times as you like.” Even if nothing would ever make up for the suffering these children went through. It was exactly why Ryoken had to bear the responsibility of it all. 

With their current closeness, he couldn’t help to glance down at Takeru’s lips, needing to change the subject. His own lips curled up, amused. “Perhaps you intend to make me take responsibility like this, as well…?” 

The insinuation was clear and Ryoken saw Takeru’s cheeks flush, his eyes flickering to Ryoken’s lips as well. This was better. This, Ryoken could deal with, instead of Takeru picking out at his intentions.

Takeru leaned inches away from his lips, warm breath ghosting over them. It was something different than the way Takeru would rush to press their lips together before, like he didn’t want to think about it and just _get on with it._ No, this was a deliberate stop, making Ryoken hold his breath in expectation. Their eyes met, charged, Takeru’s flaming with what could be irritation or something else. 

But the kiss never came. In a heartbeat, Takeru pushed him back with a hand on his chest and Ryoken tumbled backwards and to the floor with a gasp, staring wide eyed at the ceiling. What just--

Takeru stood up, walking to his side, and Ryoken saw him bending at the waist, hands on his hips, gazing down at him. His pink cheeks told no lies of what _almost_ happened, yet he also looked impossibly _smug_. Ryoken’s pulse leaped for some reason.

“Get out of my apartment, Revolver. Before I kick you out.”

Ryoken was rather sure Takeru would do just that. He sat up and wordlessly patted down his clothes before he stood and  turned for the entryway. He wasn’t sure what just happened or rather--what it _meant_.

“If you meant it--about... _wanting_ to help--” Takeru began, just as Ryoken was toeing on his shoes. He half turned, seeing him cross armed and gazing back at him a few steps away. He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “--come back tomorrow. Same hour. You are not an _awful_ tutor.”

Somehow Ryoken’s chest felt light at the words. 

“Well…You are rather awful at math, still.” The remark earned him a frown. Ryoken was smirking as he grabbed the doorknob and turned it to leave. “But I suppose that is what I’m here for. I will see you tomorrow, then, Homura.”

 

* * *

 

They settled into a rhythm. Given Takeru’s exam was soon, Ryoken ended up going pretty often at his apartment, even if after a couple hours Takeru shooed him off. They _mostly_ merely studied. Takeru might or might not have used the chance to continue their game of kissing and pressed him down on the tatami floor a couple times when they took a break (Ryoken couldn’t say he minded). 

However around the fourth or so time he was there to help, things shifted in Ryoken’s favor.

By now, the bases were mostly covered. Takeru still struggled with certain concepts, but given the time they had, it was about time they got to the exam material. Ryoken wasn’t surprised that Takeru’s frustrations would increase and he’d be harder to work with.

“I don’t get it. This worked before, why doesn’t it work _here_?”

“Because the formula only works in that specific case, not this one.” They had been over this already. Ryoken rubbed at his forehead with the pads of his fingers. “Should we take a break? We have been at this for hours.”

“Fine.” Takeru sighed, pushing his notebook away and generally scattering the papers around the table more, furthering the mess. He stood up, making his way to the bathroom. “Maybe some cold water to the face will make the math come to me.”

One corner of Ryoken’s mouth tugged up, as he shook his head and set to organize the mess on the table in Takeru’s absence, stacking papers and occasionally glancing at them to see what they were. Takeru’s notes themselves weren’t illegible, but they were disorganized. It was evident he was out of practice when it came to taking notes, but comparing them to the newest ones he’d taken with Ryoken’s help, they were starting to be easier to understand.

Among the papers (which Takeru had unceremoniously thrown onto the table from his school bag the moment they started), as he finished setting things in order, one half open notebook caught his attention. It didn’t have math problems in it, so Takeru must have mixed another subject’s notes in his carelessness.

However when Ryoken brought it up for further inspection, reading the hurried writing on it, his eyes widened. _This was_ …

He heard footsteps approach and he peeked from the notebook at Takeru, who was halfway to opening his mouth to say something, when he saw what Ryoken was holding. His eyes snapped to his. Ryoken smirked, knowingly and all too pleased. In an instant he saw the color drain from Takeru’s face only to rush back in, his cheeks flushing. 

In three quick strides Takeru got close and made a grab for the notebook but Ryoken, expecting that, stood up and held it away from him, extending his arm.

“So.” Ryoken took another quick peek at the page he was on. “You did research on movies, huh?”

“ _Give that back_.” Takeru went for his other side and Ryoken tossed the book to his other hand, once more away from Takeru’s reach.

“Why, Homura--I knew you took our little competition seriously but this--” His eyes creased, all too entertained.. “--I did not expect from you.”

“I will _strangle_ you.” The threat felt less dangerous when a blushing Takeru said it. 

“I don’t believe that would be wise. I do need my breath for kissing--It is right here.” He pointed at the page. “In your _kissing notes._ ”

Ryoken didn’t try to stop Takeru from snatching the notebook away this time. Takeru snapped it shut once he had it, glaring down at Ryoken. He was clearly embarrassed and Ryoken was delighted he’d finally got a rise out of him like that. 

“Fuck off.”

He held his chin between two fingers, gazing at Takeru with fake innocence. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Shut up. You weren’t _supposed_ to see that.” Takeru tossed the notebook in a drawer at his desk, slamming it shut. Ryoken shook his head, walking up to him.

“Well, I saw. And I think--” He stepped into Takeru’s space. “--it’s _cute_ , really.”

Takeru fumed, sticking his chin out in defiance. “Don’t make fun of me. Like you--Like you didn’t research stuff either.”

“Hoh?” Ryoken remained unphased. “What gives you that idea?”

“Because you also don’t know shit about kissing. And if you didn’t--” Takeru crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, trying to look proud. “--well, I guess you are giving _me_ the upper hand here, aren’t you? I thought you weren’t going to hold back on me.”

Of course. There was little point in denying he had been looking this up too. He hadn’t gone back to the library but the internet had been quite... _enlightening_ , for good and for bad. But trying things, that was still the key, it seemed. Perhaps now was as good as time as any to try something he’d had in mind.

He took another step, crowding Takeru against his desk. Takeru allowed it, curiously looking up at him. He tensed when Ryoken reached for him, though, to slide his glasses off and put them on the desk.

“I told you I wouldn’t, and I am not.” He inched closer, cupping Takeru’s jaw. “Should I show you then, some of the things _I_ read?”

“Hah ! So you admit y--mmh!” 

Ryoken pressed their mouths together to shut him up before he could continue. By this point he remembered to tilt his head, slotting their lips comfortably. He felt Takeru’s exhale sharply through his nose before starting to reciprocate. Ryoken could already feel the other wanted to take control of the kiss, like their previous times, but Ryoken would not allow it.

He let the hand holding Takeru’s cheek move further down, tracing a slow path down the side of his neck, settling on his pulse. His thumb ran slow circles there and he could already feel Takeru was reacting to the contact, becoming distracted. It was _exactly_ what Ryoken wanted.

Despite his suggestion, Takeru had not started to wear lip balm, but his lips weren’t terribly chapped today. Ryoken tentatively nibbled on his lower lip, just enough to get Takeru to open his mouth in a breath before he dove for his mouth again, licking his way in. Takeru’s pulse stuttered under his thumb, he felt a hum on his lips and on his throat.

At some point Takeru’s arms had uncrossed and his hands curled on the sides of Ryoken’s blazer, dragging him closer. He had Takeru pressed against the desk, a reversal from other times, and was possibly frustrating him with the way he kept him from sweeping Ryoken into his pace again. But when that threatened on happening, Ryoken parted their lips, just a beat to catch his breath, then dove right in, pressing, insisting, even when he kept the kiss slow.

He rose his free hand to Takeru’s cheek, brushing back a lock of hair behind his ear. He got a small shudder in return and, curiously, he let his fingers trace the edge of his ear, the lobe, rubbed the spot right behind it. Takeru tensed, letting a little (adorable) startled noise before he relaxed. Ryoken’s small touches seemed to make him surrender the kiss to him. 

Ryoken thought he would not be a fan of this, of the messy part of kissing, of sticking his tongue in Takeru’s hot mouth, feel a little saliva trickle down the corner of their mouths. But he found he didn’t dislike it. And he liked how he could feel Takeru melt against him, chests almost touching. He could get used to this. 

( _Don’t_ , his head said, but Takeru’s hands on his waist, dragging him in said _yes_ )

Eventually he pulled back, needing to break for air. He opened his eyes just to see Takeru lean forward again before stopping himself, blinking up at Ryoken. They were both breathing hard, sharing the same space, faces flushed. Takeru looked close to _dazed_ if Ryoken had to put a word to it, lips red from kissing. It was...a _good_ look on him.

His pulse skipped a beat. Ryoken had done this. He couldn’t understand what the feeling he felt in his chest at having accomplished it was, though, something _fluttery_ . But it wasn’t the time to focus on that or on having a freakout because he’d just kissed Takeru Homura _silly_.

“Well--” He cleared his throat, finding his voice hoarse. His lips curled up. “--I would say this round goes to me.” He swiped his thumb over the corner of Takeru’s mouth. “I think you will agree.”

The touch made Takeru jolt from his daze, eyes wide as the words registered. He spluttered, pushing at Ryoken’s chest to put some distance between them.

“Wha--that--You didn’t learn that by _reading._ ”

“No. I learned it by _trying_ _stuff_ , as you so said once. Your notes gave me some extra _insight_ , you could say.” 

Takeru opened and closed his mouth, struggling with words. Ryoken leaned forwards just so, expression self satisfied.

“ _Don’t be a sore loser_ , Homura. You _liked_ that.” He reached forwards with a hand rubbed that little spot behind Takeru’s ear again. “You like _this._ ”

Takeru squirmed, biting his lip, before swatting Ryoken’s hand away. “God, okay, _fine_ , you _win_ . It--It wasn’t _bad_.” He rubbed at his cheeks with the back of his hand, as if he could wipe away the redness in them. “Don’t be irritating about it.”

“You do not like loosing, do you?”

“Not really. Specially not against _you_.” Takeru scoffed, making a grab for his glasses and slipping them on again. “ _But_.” He fiddled with the glasses frame, not meeting Ryoken’s eyes. “It wouldn’t be an interesting competition if you weren’t a tough opponent to face.”

“This is kissing, Homura, not _martial arts_.” 

“It’s still a competition and next time I’m kicking your ass.”

“Again. _Kissing_. My behind is not involved in this fight.”

Takeru snorted, walking back to the table and sinking down on one of the cushions. “Just say _ass._ And you know what I mean.”

“Well, then...I suppose I await to see what you’ll surprise me with next.” Ryoken copied Takeru’s action and sat opposite him. The papers were right where they left them. “I believe that was plenty of break time. Shall we get back to this?”

Takeru breathed deeply, as if gathering strength, before opening his notebook again. “Yep. I’m not getting smarter by kissing you.”

“Interesting.”  Ryoken leaned his chin on his steepled hands, giving Takeru a lingering look. “I think _I_ am learning new things.”

Takeru blushed at the words and pushed his notebook against Ryoken’s face. “Quit _gloating_ and help me with math.”

After a few more tries, Takeru _did_ solve the problem he was stuck at but least to say they did not get a lot more done that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another summary for this ch would be  
> -Takeru suffers because of math, Ryoken helps, Yusaku sips his drink and continues to Observe.  
> -Also Ryoken might just be very thirsty. Takeru when are you offering him water at your house???


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe Revolver can help you again.”
> 
> Takeru made a face like he’d tasted something sour, glancing at Ryoken. Ryoken stared back, shrugging. He had a feeling that, whether Takeru wanted or not, he would end up teaching him again. He was curious as to why Yusaku seemed so intent on it though. Did he expect they’d get along better?
> 
> “Maybe I can. If you ask nicely.” It didn’t mean Ryoken wouldn’t choose that moment to mess with Takeru a little. The other boy clenched his jaw in distaste.
> 
> " Get lost .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cranks up the heat a liiitle* *adds some sugar--ah shit that's too much*
> 
> That is basically this chapter. It's got a bit of everything but I'd say it's pretty Soft by the record so far. Nothing I write....is safe from Feels Talk and fluff lmao. Remember when this was gonna be a purely silly make out fic? Yeah me neither xD
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer !!! But I'm building up a writing habit in the mornings and hopefully will get to plan what comes ahead <3 Some people have told me they were looking forward to this fic so ! I hope you enjoy ♡
> 
> And big thank you to those that continue to read / comment / leave kudos It means a bunch !! 💕💕💕

“You and Takeru look like you are getting along.”

Yusaku’s words made Ryoken blink, glancing up from his cup of coffee. They were sitting at one of the tables outside Cafe Nagi, just them two. Given the day of the week, Takeru would probably be here soon after his club activities.

Ryoken hadn’t expected _this_ topic to come up and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get into the details of how _no_ , they didn’t exactly get along, but did kind of _make out_ every now and then. Not with Yusaku, at least. Or probably _anyone_ , for that matter.

“I would not say we get along. Just because I helped him study, doesn’t mean he suddenly _likes_ me.” He rose his cup to his lips. “He made that perfectly clear.” ‘ _It doesn’t make up for anything_.’

“But he’s _listening_ to you.” Yusaku insisted, calmly, like stating a fact. He glanced down at his own mug. “Takeru seems different when he’s with you.”

“Obviously. He doesn’t like me around. He holds no sympathy for me.” Even as he said that, what he’d _known_ to be true, a part of him tried to tell him it wasn’t quite like that anymore. But helping Takeru study was _convenience_ for him. Their kisses were a _game_ , a challenge. Their next duel was imminent. That was all they were, drawn together because of a past they couldn’t let go.

And yet, the little truths Takeru shared with him, his soft understanding that day in Ryoken’s house. Those lingered and wouldn’t leave Ryoken alone even when he tried to ignore them. It was confusing.

“I don’t mean _that_.” Yusaku shook his head. “He’s--” He looked up then and went quiet, eyes catching on something behind Ryoken. Before he could react, a hand with a paper slammed down on the middle of the table, almost making him jump out of his skin. But a quick flicker to the side and he saw it was Takeru who’d finally arrived.

“Check it out !” Takeru’s voice was proud, and when Ryoken and Yusaku leaned over to see, they saw the red 62 points written atop his math exam.

“Nice work, Takeru.” Yusaku nodded. “You passed.”

Ryoken, being more through, took the exam and looked it over. There were a lot of mistakes (hence the barely passing grade) but most of the things Takeru had learned with him were okay, save for a few they hadn’t managed to cover in detail.

He turned to glance at Takeru, finding him looking back but he seemed to flinch when their eyes met, going on the defensive, as if expecting a mocking remark from Ryoken. But Ryoken merely handed the paper back to him.

“Good job, Soulburner.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just _barely_ safe there but it looks like you were _actually_ listening to me.”

Takeru’s frame relaxed with a huff, snatching the paper back. He seemed a little pleased, though. “‘Course I was! I had to put up with you extra hours, might as well make sure it’s useful.”

“Just _putting up_ with me huh…” Ryoken subtly touched his lips with two fingers, elbow leaning on the table. Takeru caught the gesture and choked, looking about ready to smack him. However right then Kusanagi approached the table, peeking at the paper in Takeru’s hand.

“Oh, you passed!” He ruffled Takeru’s hair, grinning proudly. “Nice job, Takeru!”

Takeru’s expression shifted at that, brightening and smiling back at the older man. “Thanks, Kusanagi-san!”

“How'd you do, Yusaku?”

Yusaku rummaged his bag, resting on an empty chair, and pulled his exams from it, setting them on the table. Aside from Japanese, with 80 points as the highest grade, and P.E being a low 33 points, the rest were just passing grades too, ranging between 60 and 65 points.

“Ah, failed P.E again, huh?” Kusanagi laughed, picking up that paper, to which Yusaku frowned. If Ryoken had to say, he was sulking a little.

“I don’t understand why, on top of torturing us with physical activity, they need a written exam too.”

“You are just saying that because you _hate_ it.”

“Absolutely.”

Takeru was quietly chuckling about the exchange, but abruptly stopped when Kusanagi asked: “How did the rest of your exams go, Takeru? Did you pass ‘em?”

_Silence._

Ryoken arched an eyebrow in confusion as he saw Takeru avert his gaze, smiling awkwardly.

“Ah, um--”

“Which one did you fail?” Yusaku skipped right to the point. Takeru grimaced. There was a pause before he pulled the rest of his exams from his bag, a little rumpled as if he had stuffed them in a hurry. He handed them to Yusaku without a word. Ryoken peeked in along with Kusanagi.

“Waaah--You only got….ten points for English.” Kusanagi winced, smile sympathetic. “Guess that’s your other weak point huh?”

“And Science. Fifteen points….” Yusaku pointed out, glancing over the papers. “Figures you would _ace_ P.E.”

“What I would like to know--” Ryoken spoke up. “--is how you got a _two_ in History.”

All three turned to look at Takeru who by this point was blushing from embarrassment, fists curled at his sides and avoiding their eyes.

“That, uh...I knew the answers to most of them but...when I copied my answers over in the answer sheet, I made a-- _mistake_.” He sighed. “I passed the answer to question one in question two so...all answers got delayed by one…”

There was another silence.  Eventually, though, Kusanagi couldn’t hold back a snort. Takeru turned on them indignantly.

“Don’t _laugh_!”

“I’m--I’m sorry, Takeru, I’m not _making fun_ of you I just--”

“How does this happen…?” Yusaku squinted as he looked through the exam. All the answers were, as Takeru said, delayed.

“Indeed--” Ryoken wasn’t laughing but there was a hint of amusement in his voice that he couldn’t hide, along with a twitch of his lip. Takeru shot him a glare.

“ _Shut up_ , Revolver.”

“So you have to retake three exams?” Yusaku handed the exams back. Takeru accepted them with an annoyed sigh, stuffing the papers in his bag again.

“Yeah...I thought I only had to worry about math.” He clenched his fist, seemingly dejected. “I lowered my guard….”

“Maybe Revolver can help you again.”

Takeru made a face like he’d tasted something sour, glancing at Ryoken. Ryoken stared back, shrugging. He had a feeling that, whether Takeru wanted or not, he would end up teaching him again. He was curious as to why Yusaku seemed so intent on it though. Did he expect they’d get along better?

“Maybe I can. If you ask nicely.” It didn’t mean Ryoken wouldn’t choose that moment to mess with Takeru a little. The other boy clenched his jaw in distaste.

" _Get lost_.”

“Just _please_ would suffice, Soulburner.” Ryoken tilted his head back. “Or are you stubborn enough that you’d risk failing _again_? I thought this was important to you.”

He knew he’d got him there when Takeru clicked his tongue, shutting his eyes tightly as if he was gathering all his willpower or counting to ten before he told Ryoken to shove it. He’s not sure if out of pity or what, Kusanagi and Yusaku were pretending to look elsewhere, despite it being evident they were listening in.

“...Please.” It was quiet, but he caught it, Takeru’s eyes fixing on him. Ryoken smirked, crossing arms.

“Alright. I’ll help you, again. Just let me know when we should meet to study.”

 

* * *

 

To both their credits, they _did_ mostly study this time. Their kissing game got put on hold under the rule of _no distractions_ . Takeru did have to study for _three_ subjects so Ryoken’s pace got a bit more relentless, trying to drill English verb conjugation and vocabulary into Takeru’s brain along with Science and History.

“Ah….I’m going to die….” Takeru dropped his cheek against the table, while they took a break, eyes shut tightly. “My head hurts.”

“We are almost done for today. Bear it a little longer.”

“I feel like you are having _no mercy_ with me here.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to hold back now.”

“Ugh. ‘Course not. Shut up.”

Ryoken observed him before he did something on impulse. He reached over and massaged that sensitive spot behind Takeru’s ear he’d found the other da. It made Takeru jump at first but he surprisingly allowed it for a moment, shoulders losing some of their tension.

“What are you _doing_?” Hs muttered, narrowing his eyes at Ryoken.

“You don’t like that? My memory says _otherwise_ …” That earned him a jab to his side under the table. Ouch. “Take it as you like. Motivation, perhaps.”

“Oh, I’m motivated to kick your ass right now.”

“And yet--” His thumb brushed Takeru’s ear. “You are not stopping me.”

Takeru grunted, this time shoving him away, and lifted his head from the table. He rubbed at his ear, as if wanting to wipe away something that wasn’t there, cheeks a little pink.

“Let’s get back to it.”

Ryoken would not admit it to a soul, barely could admit it to himself, but teaching Takeru was its own brand of interesting. _Fun_ , even. Maybe it was because riling Takeru up was just that easy, but he was just as easily motivated to keep going that way.

And it was hard to be _bored_ observing Takeru; even when he was sitting down, mulling over words, he was still incredibly expressive. He kept biting his lip, or the cap of a pen, his hair fell over his face and he pushed it back away with a hand; his leg jiggled under the table when he was stuck on something, or he muttered to himself or let out little confused noises.

Maybe Ryoken was staring _too hard_ . But he didn’t have time to space out too much because Takeru would eventually ask him a question or they’d bicker over a particular problem. When Takeru started looking too frustrated, they’d take a break--and Ryoken was surprised when Takeru finally offered him _tea_. Up until that point, he never had.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Apparently, Ryoken had taken too long to answer. “ Do you want tea or not?”

Ryoken nodded. And minutes later he had a steaming cup of the beverage cradled in his hands, while Takeru had a mug with hot chocolate. Ryoken eyed it curiously--he had only ever seen the other drink coffee when he was at Cafe Nagi.

“I like this more.” Takeru shrugged. “It’s sweet.”

“I never tried it.”

Takeru looked at him with disbelief, at first, but then took Ryoken’s cup from his hand and handed him his mug. “Trade me.”

Ryoken blinked at the chocolatey drink in his hand. He took a tentative sit--and no, no, he was not thinking about Takeru’s lips having been on the rim before, he was not _fourteen_ \--and his eyes brightened up a bit at the taste.

“It’s sweet.” He licked his upper lip, looking up in thought. “A little too much, maybe.” Takeru must have a added a lot of sugar.

“Please.” Takeru snorted, retrieving his mug back and giving Ryoken his tea cup back. “There’s no such thing as too sweet.”

Takeru leaned back on one hand, drinking with the other. Ryoken involuntarily glanced at his lips over the rim of the mug before looking away, sipping his own tea--he almost burnt himself, forgetting to blow on it. Embarrassingly enough Takeru laughed at him when he caught the moment he flinched and his eyes watered.

“Oh, yeah, careful. It’s _hot_.”

Ryoken grumbled, hiding behind his cup as he took a more careful sip. He couldn’t be getting _this_ distracted. _Get it together_.

More and more, he thought, it was odd to be around Takeru and not be arguing, or, lately, making out. It was odd that things were so _civil._ And yet, when they simply sat and drank silently and it was neither tense or uncomfortable, he found he didn’t dislike it. _Normalcy_ , his mind whispered, and he crushed the word in a death grip.

Normalcy wasn’t something Ryoken would ever have. And this, whatever this was turning out to be, would pass, it’d end. Takeru didn’t like him, he hated him, and he’d soon realize what they were doing and go back to picking a fight.

It was okay. Ryoken was being careful--this wouldn’t blow over in his face.

The day before Takeru’s exams, and the last day Ryoken would teach him, though, something he didn’t expect happened. Usually he left right away, but before he could do so, Takeru stopped him.

“You--” He pressed his lips together, clearly struggling with what he was trying to say. “Are you still free?”

Ryoken tilted his head. “I thought you had had enough of my company.”

Takeru rolled his eyes. “Oh, believe me, I _have_ \--no, wait this isn’t what I’m trying to say. Uh--look, you actually--” He heaved a sigh, as if defeated, hands resting on his feet as he sat cross legged. “--helped me. And I don’t like to owe people things, least of all _you_.”

Ryoken arched an eyebrow. “If this is a thank you, you are giving me mixed signals here, Homura.”

“Ugh, shut up, I’m _trying_ to do that!” He snapped. “So stay over for dinner.”

That, Ryoken didn’t expect. “What?”

“I’ll--make you dinner.” Takeru averted his gaze, lips pursed. “Won’t be a fancy thing. But as much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn’t have got this much studying done on my own so--let me do this.”

“This isn’t an attempt to _poison_ me, is it?” There was humor in his voice. Takeru groaned, shoving his shoulder and standing up.

“I could have poisoned your tea any day and I didn’t, so no.” He half turned around on his way to the kitchen. “It’s just _curry_ so don’t expect much, either.”

“You are not really selling this for me, Homura.” Ryoken stood up as well, a smile playing on his lips. “I did not even say I would stay, yet.”

That made Takeru stop on his tracks, half glaring at Ryoken. “Well, _decide_ , then, but I’ll be making dinner anyways.” And with that he was off.

 

* * *

 

Maybe asking Ryoken to stay over for dinner was not a very smart idea. Takeru glanced at the pot he’d be using and wanted to hide his whole head in it. Who asked the person they hated to have dinner with them? Who cooked for them? _Takeru Homura you are making some really strange choices lately_.

But it didn’t sit right with him not to do _something_ . No matter how he felt about the guy, Ryoken had still helped him; Takeru had never felt this confident before an exam--three, in this case. Sure he was clumsy here and there still--Ryoken had looked all too amused when he heard his poor English pronunciation (“ _Shut up, Revolver_ ”)--but he felt like he could get a passing grade.

And Takeru wasn’t an _ungrateful_ person, and he hated _owing_ favors, specially to someone like Ryoken, so this felt like the _easiest_ thing to do. It’s not like he could buy the other something or teach him anything in return--unless Ryoken was into martial arts... _Huh_ . Maybe he _should_ have considered that one, he would have got to throw Ryoken around in the process and blow off some steam. He could just picture the man’s frustrated expression.

But too little to late for that, Ryoken was getting _dinner_. Or not, if the idiot choose to leave. His loss.

His apartment was small so he had a view of the living room from here, if he peeked over one counter. When he looked up from chopping carrots, Ryoken was still there, standing like he didn’t know what to do, as if he hadn’t been in this situation before. Maybe he hadn’t.

He was looking at something though. Takeru caught Ryoken’s eyes fixed on something on his desk--and when he glanced at it he didn’t have to guess what he was looking at. There was a small picture frame on one corner that Takeru had brought from home.

“...You look like you want to ask something.” He spoke up, and it startled Ryoken slightly. His eyes lingered on the photo of the young looking couple for a beat longer before glancing away.

“I don not think it’s my place to pry.”

“Depends and what you were going to ask.”

When Ryoken said nothing else, Takeru went back to cutting the rest of the vegetables. His hand stilled for a moment when Ryoken finally spoke.

“What...were they like?”

 _‘Why do you care about_ **_that_ ** _?’_ were the first words in Takeru’s mind, a familiar anger coiling in his stomach whenever the other even slightly hinted that he cared. That he cared about what had happened to them, about the victims, about taking responsibility for it. Nothing would make up for that, it’s too late to regret things now--

“Kind.” Was what he said, instead, surprising himself. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, slowing down as he spoke. “Dad was a fisherman. Mom might have...inherited Gramps’s dojo, one day.” He found himself smiling. “I don’t think she wanted to, though. She was more the stay at home mom--she loved cooking, baking. Maybe she would have opened her own store.”

 _‘Look, look, Takeru!’_ it was vague, but he remembered her mom’s excited voice, even now, showing off one of her latests experiments in the kitchen. A small little cake, meticulously decorated. _‘It turned out so cute ! And it has strawberries, your favorite !’_

“Gramps says--I’m a lot like her.” The temper, the eyes, he had said, wistful. He missed her. Takeru missed her too, he missed them both so much.

“I see the resemblance.” Ryoken speaking made Takeru realize he was still there and snapped his head up. He glanced away from the photo to look at Takeru. “Your eyes.”

Takeru swallowed, something tight in his throat. He merely offered a sharp nod, glancing away again. He had said too much, already. He finished cutting the vegetables and put some water to boil.

“What--” Takeru wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask this question. If he should. “--about yours?”

A peek at Ryoken showed him staring back at him.

“I did not expect you’d want to know about that.” _Why would you want to know about_ **_him_ ** _?_

“Well--you asked about mine. It’s only fair.” He shrugged, like it was of little importance. He was regretting asking now, because he wasn’t sure what to expect of the answer. If Ryoken talked with affection in his voice for Kogami, Takeru might just _puke_. No matter how much he understood what losing a father felt like, he had expressed his hate for the man.

“I don’t remember my mother.” Takeru flinched when Ryoken began talking. He didn’t look at him, merely kept getting what he needed for dinner. “I must have been too young to. Father did not really speak of her and I couldn’t find any photos.”

Ryoken’s voice sounded detached, or like he was trying to be.

“I don’t think you want to hear about Father--you know enough.”

“I _don’t_ actually.” Takeru found himself blurting out. “Not like you do.” _There’s a reason you did what you did for him_.

“I don’t think I knew much about him, either.” It’s an admission. “Not outside of...his line of work. I was too focused in destroying the Ignis for him to really do much of anything else.”

Ryoken’s voice had gone quiet. When he glanced at him, he had his arms crossed, staring off at the wall with a distant look. He looked every bit like this was a subject he hadn’t touched in detail. Maybe he didn’t want to.

Takeru felt bad, for a moment, before he shook his head. Pitying Ryoken would be the worst choice he could make. He was still involved with the people who had tortured him, he had aided Kogami. He still was after Ai.  Takeru couldn’t just forgive all that.

But he did keep the thought, to himself, that Kogami must have been a really selfish man. He wasn’t surprised, really; the man had been horrible, had caused him and other five children to suffer, but Takeru had wondered if he’d been any different as a father. If not even his son could say anything about him, in that aspect...yeah, Takeru still held no sympathies for that man. He never would.

“...’Oy, get over here.” He called Ryoken over, to change the subject. He got on his tiptoes to grab the rice from the shelf and then handed Ryoken the packet. He pointed to the rice cooker. “Handle the rice.”

Ryoken stared between the packet and the cooker like Takeru had told him to defuse a bomb. Takeru arched an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t even know how to make _rice_.”

“I am sure I can figure it out.” Ryoken might not be the type that faked confidence but he sure knew how to sound sure when he looked anything _but_. Takeru sighed.

“Okay, it’s _easy_. Put one cup of rice, two of water, and a little salt in the cooker. Then just shut the lid and turn it on, it should be done in twenty minutes.” He gestured to the cabinets before turning to the fridge. “Cups are there.”

While he left Ryoken with that he took care of getting the chicken and chopping it too. He heard Ryoken rummaging and grabbing cups. He only spared him a glance after he was done chopping, seeing him close the lid of the cooker and turn the appliance on.

“Good job.” Takeru flashed him a sarcastic lopsided grin, as he put the vegetables and the chicken in the pot with water. “Looks like you are useful for something other than teaching after all.”

Ryoken scoffed, leaning against an empty counter. “Like you said. It was simple.”

“It is. How do you not own a rice cooker, is what I don’t get.”

“I might have one. I simply do not use it.”

“So _Revolver_ can’t do basic cooking…” Takeru teased. “Even you can be useless, huh?”

Takeru _squeaked_ when that earned him a kick to the back of his leg. He glared indignantly at Ryoken, who merely played innocent, averting his gaze. He was fighting back a satisfied grin, though.

“ _Asshole_.” Takeru muttered, stirring the pot a bit before putting the lid on to let everything cook. He quickly washed the knives and the cutting boards he’d used. There wasn’t much else to do but wait now, so he mirrored Ryoken and leant against the kitchen sink, inches between them.

A few seconds ticked by in silence and Takeru was becoming very aware of the fact he was standing in his kitchen with Ryoken, alone. The man stood out, somehow, in his cramped kitchen. He had got used to being around him, just them two, by now, but they had always been doing something; bickering, studying...kissing. There was something strange and new about this but Takeru couldn’t say _what_ \--except for the fact he would be eating dinner with him in a few minutes.

It’s _normal_. That’s what it was; like Ryoken wasn’t a cyberterrorist but just another guy Takeru knew, who he had over at his home and they were just hanging out.

Watching Ryoken right now, he looked just like anybody--no matter how poised the man acted, even he had awkward moments, even he didn’t know something as simple as _putting rice in a cooker_. He felt...reachable.

But this was merely an illusion, wasn’t it? They were standing in a very delicate bubble of time and space that would be popped the moment they remembered who they really were, why they were here, why they had even started this in the first place.

Normal didn’t really exist. As if Ryoken would ever just be _another guy_.

(And yet…)

“Thank you.” Takeru blurted out, starting to find the silence stifling. Their eyes met and Takeru fought not to look away. His fingers curled over the edge of the counter. “For...teaching me.”

One corner of Ryoken’s mouth pulled up in a half smile. “You still have to _pass_ , you know.”

Takeru rolled his eyes. “I know. But I _will_ pass.” He puffed out his chest, crossing his arms. “I’m confident. So have some faith.”

“Oh, I believe you’ll pass--” There was a teasing edge to Ryoken’s voice and Takeru spluttered when he poked the middle of his forehead. “--as long as you _pay attention_ when writing in the _answer_ sheet.”

“I _will_.” He swatted the hand away, huffing.

“Really?” They hadn’t stood far from each other but Ryoken sounded closer now. “When you are barely paying attention _now_?”

Takeru didn’t know when Ryoken had closed the few inches between them and was now standing in front of him, placing his hands on each side of the counter behind Takeru. He found himself swallowing. He was in no way intimidated, but Ryoken catching him off guard made his heart _race_. Dammit.

Takeru tilted his head up defiantly. “What, you think you have me cornered?”

“Given our positions…” Ryoken leaned close, breath ghosting his lips. “...I’d say yes.”

The first kiss was small, too _chaste_ for what they are used to. As if testing the waters after a while. Takeru’s hands rose and held onto Ryoken’s waist.

“I could change that in a _heartbeat_.”

“I know.” Ryoken kissed him again, more firmly, fingers rising to tease that spot behind his ear he was so fixated on. But when Takeru kissed back, trying to take control, Ryoken pulled back, just a little, then pressed their lips together again. It was as if he was taunting him, as if asking _‘but will you turn this around?_ ’.

It made Takeru _burn_.

Just when Ryoken was pulling away, Takeru bit his lip, earning him a gasp. Takeru set his hands on Ryoken’s chest and _pushed_. Ryoken’s momentarily dazed expression was funny, right before Takeru pressed him to the opposite wall. Their eyes met briefly, something flashing in both of them.

Instead of diving in for his lips, Takeru bent his head towards his neck. The first brush of lips made Ryoken’s breath hitch. Takeru grinned.

“Who’s the cornered one _now_?”

Internally, Takeru knew he had _no idea what he was doing_ , but Ryoken didn’t push him away when he began kissing his neck, so Takeru would take that as a positive. When Ryoken’s hand settled in the back of his head, Takeru took that as encouragement.

He had only vaguely read about this. Listen, he was a teenage boy, making out with his rival(?), enemy(?), whatever _Ryoken_ was at this point and he was _curious_ . Their challenge involved kissing, but they had never said anything about this. And if Ryoken would exploit Takeru’s weak spot why shouldn’t he try finding _his_?

When he tentatively sucked on the skin, Ryoken let out a quiet little noise low on his throat. That just spurred Takeru on, marking a trail down the side of his neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands had found purchase on Ryoken’s hips, holding him firm against the wall while pressing himself closer.

“Nnn--” Ryoken’s grip on the back of his head tightened slightly, fingers curling and uncurling around the strands of hair there. Takeru tilted his head enough to see him biting his lip, eyes scrunched shut, face flushed. His other arm had settled around Takeru’s waist, keeping him there, fingers tight around the fabric of his shirt . Takeru’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t say what the feeling settling over his stomach was, at the sight of Ryoken enjoying this. He just knew it made him want to do _more_.

He moved his lips to the front of his neck, sucking hard on the middle of his throat.

“Ah--” Ryoken practically jolted, exhaling sharply, and his hips stuttered in the hold Takeru had on them. Takeru couldn’t fight back a grin, biting a little lower.

“You like _this_ , huh?”

He heard Ryoken groan before his hand tightened on his hair and dragged his head up. Before Takeru could react, he smashed their lips together. He kissed Takeru like he was _irritated_ , no, _impatient_ , his fingers tangled in Takeru’s hair. It was almost hungry the way Takeru chased his lips when the broke for a second, breathing against each other’s mouths.

It’s not as if their kisses before hadn’t got a little heated but there was something slightly different about this one that made Takeru feel like his skin was _boiling_. Maybe it was Ryoken’s hands on his hair, tugging at the strands, maybe it was the closeness, the contact after not having done this in a while. He couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it, but he had held back, knowing he couldn’t get distracted.

He’s not sure when his hands on Ryoken’s hips moved up, fingers just barely slipping under Ryoken’s shirt. What was the point in ignoring the flame slithering up his chest now? His instinct told him he _wanted_. His hand slid up. He wanted to--

A sudden beeping noise startled both of them, lips separating. Noses inches apart, they stared wide eyed at each other, the reality of the situation coming back to them. Takeru’s hands pressed to Ryoken’s sides, hot palms against colder skin. Ryoken’s fingers in Takeru’s hair, leaving it a tangled mess. Chests practically pressed together, faces flushed.

“That…” Takeru’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat, slowly disentangling himself. “That’s the rice. I should, uh, the pot--”

“Yes--” Ryoken blinked, removing his hands from Takeru more quickly. He sounded and looked out of breath. “--You should check that.”

“Yeah--” Takeru took a step back, staring for a moment too long before moving to check on the pot. It was practically done, it seemed, so he turned off the fire and added a cube of curry he had set to the side earlier. He stirred until it was all mixed up.

“This is pretty much done so--get some glasses to the table, will you?” He gestured to the shelf with a shoulder. “I’ll serve this.”

He didn’t hear a confirmation but he saw Ryoken reaching for the glasses out of the corner of his eye and taking them away. Takeru went over with their plates of curry and rice a moment after and they knelt down across each other to eat, offering quiet thank yous for the food.

So.

It was a little awkward and Takeru wasn’t sure _why_. Okay, scratch that, he knew why, but he didn’t get why making out with Ryoken in his kitchen was any different than the last times.

All he knew it had been good. His skin felt tingly.

He didn’t want to think much about it so he hurried to shove a mouthful of rice in his mouth--and proceeded to choke on the _taste_.

“Wh--what the hell?!”

Ryoken tilted his head. “What is it?”

“The rice is--it’s too _salty_.” He swallowed with effort, looking up at Ryoken with disbelief. “How much salt did you put in this?!”

“Well, you said one cup of rice, two of water...I assumed salt should be proportional, as well, so I added a cup.”

“Are you kid--you don’t add _a whole cup of salt_ to rice, idiot!” Takeru spluttered. Was Ryoken for real? “It’s just a little, a _little_!”

Ryoken scrunched up his brow.

“It cannot be that bad.” He tried a bit of it. Takeru saw him shut his eyes at the taste. “Oh. I--see. I made a slight miscalculation.”

“ _Only slight_ ?” Takeru snorted, voice starting to shake. He wasn’t sure why but he was finding this _hilarious_ . Ryoken Kogami, cyberterrorist, hacker; couldn’t even cook _rice_ properly. Laughter bubbled out of him before he could stop it and he pressed a hand over his eyes under his glasses.

“A _whole cup_ \--I can’t believe you are this--Maybe _you_ are the one trying to poison me !”

“Why would I poison us _both_ ? And I don't think this is _completely_ inedible.”

“No, it’s fucking _terrible_ .” Takeru's laughter was starting to die down, but when he peeked at Ryoken, he was, of all things, pouting, even when he tried to disguise it. He's not sure why that made him start laughing _again_.

"Are you quite _done_?" Ryoken rolled his eyes but he didn't exactly look angry. Exasperated, at most.

"I think--" Takeru took a deep breath, after a moment. "--I'm done. Haha--" He shook his head. "I take back what I said before. You are only good for teaching."

"Hmph." Even if he wanted to, he had no argument against that. Ryoken grabbed his spoon and tried some of the curry, without the deadly rice. His frown relaxed, eyes lightning up.

"At least the curry is edible, right?" Takeru munched on a bit of chicken, humming. He tried combining some the curry and the rice to see if it was salvageable that way but just blanched at the taste. "Ugh. Bad idea."

“Don’t eat it if it’s so _terrible_.”

“Yeah but--” Takeru pouted around his spoon. “Curry is supposed to go with _rice_. Ugh. You ruined your own thank you dinner, Revolver.”

“It is not completely ruined.” He ate another spoonful before continuing. “The curry itself is good, Homura.” Their eyes met across the table and Takeru wasn’t sure what it was about Ryoken’s smile, strangely softer, that made him feel _weird_. The tips of his ears felt hot and something fluttered in his stomach.

Takeru glanced down at his food before he could think what it meant and shoved a spoonful of food in his mouth. He choked when Ryoken added:

“Besides, I think I got another kind of _thank you_ , earlier…” His tone of voice was unmistakably insinuating and Takeru had to cough a couple of times before he could shoot him a flustered glare.

“You--that--that wasn’t--” Ryoken only seemed to smile wider, almost cat like, seeing him struggle with words, so Takeru groaned and gave up. He shoved Ryoken’s face with a hand so he wouldn’t see him smirk. “ _Ugh,_ quit it. Eat your dinner."

Ryoken batted his hand away, but he was still smiling lightly, the insufferable bastard. Takeru grunted under his breath and resumed eating. He didn’t comment on the mostly faint marks on Ryoken’s neck, his own doing. Let him find out later in front of the mirror.

Dinner was surprisingly light after that; quiet, but it had long stopped being awkward. Afterwards, Takeru put the plates in the sink to wash later and saved the leftover curry in the fridge for lunch tomorrow. Even if the rice was a lost cause he could make new one.

He was checking his fridge, squinting to see if he had anything sweet as a dessert--no jelly...no pudding--when Ryoken spoke up.

“I should be taking my leave. It is getting rather later.”

Takeru shut his fridge, blinking up at him. Oh, right. Ryoken had to go and Takeru should probably get ready for tomorrow. He merely offered a nod, seeing Ryoken to the entrance.

When he finished toeing his shoes, Ryoken turned to him. He looked like he was going to say something but whatever he saw on Takeru’s face seemed to make him pause.

“Are you actually concerned about tomorrow?” He tilted his head, tone taking on a more curious edge. “Or are you disappointed I am leaving?”

“Wh--why would I be?!” Takeru fought the urge to rub at his face--had his expression changed? He knew he could be awfully transparent, even when he didn’t want to be. He pushed at Ryoken’s chest with both hands. “ _Get out_ already. I’ll be just fine for tomorrow !”

Ryoken stumbled a few steps back, almost hitting the door.

“You will.” Takeru eyes widened when a hand settled over his head and ruffled his hair. No, no ruffle--it was as if Ryoken was fixing it. When he glanced up, Ryoken had that smile on his face again. _Flutter flutter_. “Go get some rest, Homura.”

Takeru didn’t get to say anything to that, finding himself stunned, and Ryoken didn’t really wait for a reply. Before Takeru could react, he had opened the front door and left. The click of the door shutting made Takeru move, at last. He twisted the lock. And then pressed his hands and forehead to the door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He felt dazed.

Right then, he had realized why this time felt slightly different.

Because for a moment, he had _forgotten_ about the _challenge_ . Even when it was the _only reason_ they were doing this, he hadn’t even thought about who won this time. Ryoken’s reactions, the feel of his hands on his hair, his skin, it had clouded everything else.

Which meant that for a moment, he may have really wanted to--

Takeru banged his forehead against the door, fists curling. His face was _burning_. And there was only one thing he could think of in that moment.

“Fuck.”

He was a goddamn _idiot_.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Homura is an idiot_ , Ryoken thought, watching himself in front of the mirror and clicking his tongue.

They were mostly faint, but his neck was littered with _hickeys_. Had he not told Ryoken on purpose or had he simply not noticed?

He'd have to wear scarves for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also at
> 
> moonlights0nata on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


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